Of Bruises and BandAids
by SpillingInk
Summary: COMPLETE. Set at the end of Boom! Season 2. Beckett stays over with Castle after he saves her life in the warehouse, and finds herself a little more vulnerable than she would like. Caskett, of course.
1. When the Adrenaline Fades

**Of Bruises and Band-aids**

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><p>Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. If I did, I would have to make deadlines. And I don't like those. I'm just playing on someone else's playground.<p>

This is set towards the end of "Boom!" in season two. It covers the night after taking Scott Dunn down at the warehouse. As much as I would love to have Kate and Rick making out in each other's arms, I feel bound by their characters and I therefore must keep their actions within reason and consistent with where their relationship was at that point.

Review if you like it. Review if you don't. I'm not so great at this, but hey, practice makes perfect!

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><p>The file of paperwork landed heavily on the desktop with a satisfying thump. Kate Beckett stood wearily at her desk for a moment, staring down at the brown folder. It was completely disorganized, filled with crime scene photos, documents, notes, and incomplete forms. But what mattered most was the page she had just added to the very top of the confusion; the ink where she had just signed off on it still fresh.<p>

It was Scott Dunn's arrest form. They had just returned from the warehouse takedown and he was now locked up in a holding cell at the 12th precinct. The whole hellish ordeal was over. Finally. She'd never had a case like this. In the last forty-eight hours, she'd been hunted down, bombed, kicked off the case, brought back on, dealt with a hostage situation, and nearly taken a bullet to the face. To mention a few highlights.

Now, it was nearing midnight and Shaw had left several minutes prior, promising to return and pack up the smart boards in the morning. Beckett had taken a last trip to the bullpen to drop off the new paperwork; she found the stillness and quietness of the vacant rooms a comforting reminder that it was all finished. She looked around her. Barely organized chaos met her eyes: stacks of papers, boxes of evidence, the smart boards and the traditional murder boards jockeying for position in the limited space. After nearly losing their lives, everyone was content to leave the mess for tomorrow. Even her normally immaculate desk was littered with pens, scribbled notes, and various papers. Placing her palms on the desktop, she leaned heavily on to them and took a deep breath, simultaneously pulling her chin to her chest and trying to stretch out her back and ribs. Dunn had really done a number on her physique. The adrenaline was fading and the pain was beginning to creep over the edges of her senses.

She knew it would only get worse. It always did. She'd only had a few other cases where she had actually been forced to trade blows with a suspect, but she knew what to expect. Once she left the precinct, her subconscious would start taking stock of every inflicted blow and pulled muscle, just waiting for her to sit down long enough for the adrenaline to break down, waiting until she allowed herself to relax and listen to her body's protests. And once she got home, she would acquiesce to its demands, sinking into a steaming hot bath with a glass of wine and a good book, draining and heating the water as needed, until every fiber had relaxed and the physical pains were nearly forgotten. Until she moved, that is. Until she left the weightless bliss of the heated water and returned to reality where gravity aggravated ankles and furniture pressed into bruises. In order to avoid that reality as much as possible, she always made a beeline from the bath to her bed. By the morning, her body would have smoothed over most of the pains and merely left her with some temporary stiffness.

Oh, how she couldn't wait for that bath tonight.

Suddenly she balled up her hands into fists on the desk and groaned between her teeth. Her bath. Her bed. Her home. Gone. In the insanity of today, with lives on the line, she hadn't so much as reserved a hotel room for tonight. Or even thought about needing a place to stay. She moaned in annoyed indecision. Should she spend the cash and get a room? Or just stay at the precinct tonight and figure it out tomorrow? She was tired. Her head hurt. Where was Castle? Had he already left? She frowned and tried to remember where she had last seen him. Yeah, outside, hailing a cab, just as she was entering the precinct to drop off Dunn's arrest papers. Most likely, gone by now. So much for that solution.

In direct contradiction to her last thought, she heard the soft ding of the elevator, followed by footsteps accompanied by the Star Wars theme song. She rolled her eyes and smiled. Apparently surviving dangerous situations only buoyed his boyish behavior. Now she had to decide if she wanted to lose her dignity and ask if she could stay at his place another night. Admit he was useful. Admit she had to rely on him. He had just saved her life, after all.

"Detective Beckett, you can't be serious!" Castle had turned the corner and caught her leaning over her desk. "The emperor's dead, the galaxy's saved, and you are contemplating _paperwork?"_ His voice went impossibly high on the last word, his face an exaggerated expression of disgust and disbelief.

"That, Castle, is the last thing on my mind." She desperately wanted to get some distance from this case for at least a few hours. Without a psycho calling her cellphone with another murder he'd committed. Without headquarters calling her about hostages. Without sitting on edge waiting for another bomb to kill her. Without getting beat up by said psycho, in front of Castle, nonetheless. "This has been one hell of a case."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Castle had reached her side, and turned smartly on his heel. "Let's go party with the Ewoks." He proffered his arm in a gentleman's gesture.

Kate turned from her desk and gave a thin smile. "I can't impose again, Castle." She said it on pure principle. There was nothing more she wanted to do than impose on him and his loft. It was much better than a lonely night in a strange hotel, or trying to catch a few winks on a cramped couch surrounded by photos and files from the case.

Castle reached out and grabbed her elbow, dragging her forward as he retraced his steps back to the elevator. "Of course," he said nonchalantly, "there isn't much of a party, and my little Ewok is fast asleep, but it's home."

She stumbled forward several steps with a strangled "Castle!" before she managed to fall in step beside him, the certainty of his act leaving her no room for argument. She had seen a momentary flash of exasperation seize his face at her words, and felt a certain finality in his grip on her upper arm. Which he was still holding. Holding against his side, forcing her to walk beside him in a manner that was far beyond her normal comfort zone.

The action begged for her to put him in his place, keep their professional distance, announce her annoyance at the position of power he had just assumed. His playful words were merely an excuse to counter the possessiveness of his actions. He did that often, she had noticed: baited her with a playful line, poked fun at her or their surrounding situation - always at the crux of a potentially intimate moment. Made it all a game. Broke the tension. She knew he didn't do it for himself. He did it for her. So she wouldn't run. Did it so she would tolerate him long enough for him to get his foot in the door. And it worked.

She simply walked alongside him like a lost puppy, letting him guide her around the corner and towards the double metallic doors. It was nice to let someone else call the shots for once.

"Thanks, Castle. I owe you one."

"Yes, but not for this."

"What?" She turned to glance at him with a furrowed brow.

"My home is always open to you, Kate." He reached forward and pressed the call button before rolling his head around towards her and arching an eyebrow. "But you owe me triple homage for being the one to blow this case wide open. And solve it. And save your life." He grinned in self-satisfaction and stared straight forward at the opening doors, basking in his moment.

Beckett let her head tip completely backwards on top of her shoulders, eyes raised to the ceiling, mouth slightly open as she exhaled "Oh PLEASE!" drawing it out in mock exasperation.

He smirked and nudged her forward as he stepped into the car. Beckett brought her head down and regretted the excessive movement as the growing headache ratcheted up a few more notches. Only after they were both inside, with the doors closed, did Castle release her arm and allow some proper distance between them. Almost as if he recognized she couldn't go anywhere - the steel box keeping her within his reach. He was leaning one shoulder against the side of the car, arms folded comfortably across his chest, gazing triumphantly at her. No, not triumphantly. His eyes were softer than that, the line of his smile more – comforting? Protective? Whatever it was, she wasn't entirely comfortable with it. And not because she didn't like it.

"You should be groveling in gratitude that I let you out of the van. And that I was stupid enough to give you a gun." She parried.

"Stupid enough? I think you are forgetting the part where I used that gun to save your life?"

"His _head,_ Castle? You were aiming for his _head_? Apparently I was closer to death than I thought."

"Perhaps I should clarify: I was _intending_ to aim for his head. I was under a little pressure - squeezed the shot off a little early. I'm really not that bad of a shot, not after beating every decent first-person shooter game on the market."

"Oh right, since video games so clearly reflect reality."

"Detective, I would have you know the military frequently uses virtual reality-"

"Spare me the lecture, Castle. You got lucky. I'll give you that." She raised her eyebrows and shook her head slightly. "We all did."

He regarded her with that same expression again, and she decided it was definitely protective. And somewhat possessive. The elevator dinged. She smiled and smacked his chest lightly with the back of her hand as she exited before him. "But I will bow out and admit that you had a moment of brilliance back there in the van."

"Aha! My innate genius is finally acknowledged!"

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Can you repeat that concession to the boys tomorrow? As well as the Captain?"

"I'm already sorry I said it."

They exited the 12th and stepped into the brisk night. Castle stepped up to his waiting cab, opening the door and beckoning for her to enter. She stepped up to the curb, placing her left hand on the open door for stability as she lowered herself gingerly into the seat. Her extended arm showed a glimpse of white gauze beneath the edge of her sleeve, a reminder that her apartment had blown up only two nights previous. It seemed like weeks ago.

Castle hustled around to the other side of the cab, sliding in to the opposing seat and spreading his legs to fit comfortably behind the passenger chair. He threw an arm across the seatback and slouched downwards, his sprawling posture minimizing the distance between them. She sat nearly motionless in the seat beside him, her head swaying slightly backwards as the car began its journey homeward. She turned to gaze at the passing traffic, allowing her shoulders to relax, beginning to let the weight of the day sink in and dissipate. She was tired. And her head was really starting to hurt. And so were her ribs.

She'd held on to her gun after Dunn had slammed her bodily against the wall, even after her head had snapped back from the impact and white lights had sprinkled her vision. But the fist he had pounded into her left side had caused her to lose some concentration, and the second swing to the same spot, combined with a pressure point in the tendons of her palm, had been too much to handle. She'd lost her weapon. And before she could recover, she had seen the concrete floor rushing upwards, barely giving her time to turn her head to try and direct the force of her fall onto her shoulder instead of her face. She had mostly succeeded: she had only partially blacked out. Just temporarily lost her vision. And maybe briefly her hearing. But when she could focus again, she had found herself staring down the barrel of her own gun.

Kate turned her head away from the world passing by and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the headrest - and immediately bringing it forward with a soft hiss as white needles of pain jumped against the back of her skull. Castle twitched towards her.

"Are you alright?" He queried.

She didn't answer, but gently tugged one glove off and reached up to carefully probe the back of her skull. Bringing her hand forward, she held it up for inspection in the passing streetlights. The tips of her fingers were shiny with flecks of blood. "Huh." She noted.

"What?"

"I cracked my head pretty good."

"Are you bleeding?"

"Not much anymore. But that explains the headache I've developed. And all along I thought it was because I was sharing a cab with you…" She trailed off with a smirk.

He laughed lightly. "Why didn't you get checked out by the medics?"

"It's hardly anything serious. There wasn't really time." She dismissed his concern with a wave of her bare hand. "I'll be fine by tomorrow. Besides, the medics wouldn't give me anything that a well-stocked home medical kit couldn't supply." She looked at him with expectant eyes.

"Complete with Star Wars Band-Aids! Or Disney princesses." He added as an afterthought.

"Why am I not surprised…" she smiled.

"And I may not have any lidocaine, but would a well-stocked liquor cabinet do the trick?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Castle?"

"Kate!" He exclaimed in mock hurt.

She smiled, genuinely, beginning to allow the fatigue to overtake her, bringing her guard down, enjoying his presence. "As long as you have some decent red wine."

"Only the best."

Twisting slightly in her seat, Beckett tried to rearrange herself to ease the pressure on her bruised ribs. "Good. I'm going to need a few glasses."

By the time the cab had pulled onto Castle's block, Beckett's subconscious had started alerting her to every injury she had sustained over the past several days: from the throbbing in her ankle to the pounding in her head. Every breath seemed to increasingly antagonize her ribs, while her neck and shoulder opposed any movement whatsoever. Castle had thrown out a few comments, but fell silent as her replies deteriorated to wordless grunts. When the cabbie stopped the car, she was huddled deep into the crook of the seat, eyes at half mast, trying desperately to avoid any form of movement. It just took too much effort for her tired body.

Castle slid out of the car, walked around, and opened her door for her. She still hadn't twitched a muscle.

"Do I have to move?" She mumbled huskily.

Castle crouched down and touched her knee. "Come on, we're almost there. I'll help you up."

He placed a hand under her elbow, guiding her gently upwards as she hauled herself out of the cab. Beckett's joints stiffly acquiesced to her demands for mobility, her multiple bruises throbbing in protest. As she straightened fully, a wave of intense pressure washed through her head, causing her to involuntarily sway into Castle's nearby shoulder. She threw a hand out to catch herself and found it pressing against the soft canvas of his sport coat, pressing into his obliques. "Sorry." She managed.

"Kate, are you sure you are ok?" His eyes intensely probed her face as he steadied her.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just really tired. I stood up too fast." She sidled out of his grasp to prove she was quite balanced. She wanted to be in his loft already, sinking into that blessed bed, giving in to painless sleep. But she couldn't do that. Not until she'd attended to her new injuries, changed clothes, and re-dressed her old wounds from a few days ago. This was definitely the worst beating she had taken in a long while. Usually her body didn't start shutting down until about half-way through her bath, but today she couldn't even get out of the cab without assistance.

"Ok." Castle replied unconvinced. Beckett breathed in the night air, drawing energy from the sharp crispness that infused her sinus cavities and brought a sense of reality back to her awareness. An unwelcomed fogginess was settling into her mind, causing her thoughts to slow and sapping her of the energy to put up the tough cop façade. The exhaustion was getting the better of her, she thought, and moved her right hand upwards to toss it casually through her hair; rearranging it out of her face and buying herself time to gather her strength so she wouldn't succumb to becoming a dead weight hanging limply onto Castle's arm.

He placed his hand in the small of her back and urged her gently towards the entry doors. She stepped forward with as much spring as possible, allowing him to hold the door as he ushered her into the warmth and brightness of the lobby. She blinked a few times to allow her eyes to adjust. As they crossed to the elevator, Castle volleyed pleasantries back and forth with the doorman. Undoubtedly he was well acquainted with the night staff, she reflected, considering his reputation for parties and women. Meaning that the doorman wasn't thinking twice about the purpose of her presence alongside Castle. The appearance was so condemning, she didn't even attempt to correct it through a verbal explanation. She merely took an long step forward to place herself in front of Castle and touch the glowing square next to the elevator doors before he did, creating distance in what she hoped was a clear declaration of her independence. Forgetting that such a quick extension of her left arm would result in a throbbing protest from her lower ribs and surrounding muscles, causing an involuntary sound to escape her lips before she could adjust to the surprise flash of pain. She saw Castle turn slightly towards her, concern exuding from his stance.

The elevator arrived and Kate felt more relaxed once she was shut up in a box away from the public eye. In the rare moments where she felt weak and vulnerable, she preferred solitude from the judgment of the world. This was definitely one of those moments – She had no home, little strength, and was forced to rely on Castle to meet her most basic needs. But the most disturbing thing was…she was ok with that. Perhaps she was succumbing to the emotions of a damsel in distress. Castle had shot a dangerous killer off her back tonight, and she fully appreciated the gravity of that action mentally and emotionally. It brought forth memories of several other instances where he had been there for her in a tight spot, or untied a perplexing knot in a developing case with an insightful theory. His faults and annoyances faded to the background as her tired mind reflected on his merits.

The doors opened onto the hall leading to his loft, and she unbuckled her knees from the bracing position that had held her propped upright against the back of the elevator. Castle noticed her weariness and fired off a quip about how he could carry her over the threshold if it would make it easier. She shot him a "don't you dare" look as she stepped out onto the carpeted hallway floor, but what she saw on his face startled her somewhat. Instead of the jocular grin he typically sported to break the tension, he wore a warm smile that conveyed more tenderness than playful banter. And his eyes. They stared hard into hers, with an earnestness and a sureness about them, an intensity that conveyed the message that right now, his mind had a singular focus on her. If she was suffering from the emotions of a rescued dame, he was expressing symptoms of a knight in shining armor.

And she could hardly blame him. He'd come galloping to her rescue twice in as many days. She knew there wasn't much hope of cooling the protectiveness she saw registered behind his stare. Not in the state she was in. Not while she needed help to treat her multiple lacerations and battered muscles. Not while he was providing warm food, a bath, and a bed for her. She also knew she should prevent it, stonewall him, throw up the "I'm fine" card and just take care of herself by herself. Keep him at arm's length and simply ask him for the bare minimum, such as "where are the towels?" or "are your glasses in this cabinet?" He would fume a little, fidget, and whine, but eventually get over it. He always did.

Except her guarded stoicism had been left somewhere in the cab, stripped away by the headache, the bruises, and the exhaustion.

They reached his door, and she leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb closest to the handle where Castle was sliding the key into the lock, her eyes staring at his hands as they twisted the key mere inches from her waist. He moved the key up towards the deadbolt as she rested the side of her head against the wall, sliding her eyes upward to briefly regard his face. She was drawing comfort from his proximity, indulging in the feelings of security that had risen in the wake of his protectiveness. To be perfectly honest, she had begun allowing him to take care of her the moment he had rescued her from homeless despondency at the precinct earlier tonight. Kate mentally wilted as she surrendered to the inevitable. Tonight she was not Detective Beckett, NYPD homicide detective. Tonight she was Kate Beckett, merely human.


	2. She Falls, He Falls

The door to his loft swung open as Richard Castle rotated the handle and pushed lightly inwards. Beckett didn't move, and as he raised his eyes from the keys in his hand, he found her gaze already upon him with an expression he had never seen set in the angles of her face. She seemed to be melting into the wall, her head cocked sideways as it rested wearily against the doorjamb while her hazel eyes looked up at him, impossibly soft and large, unguarded, the hardness completely gone from them. There was an aura of vulnerability about her that he had never witnessed. And trust.

In the instant his eyes met hers, he read the unspoken words behind her soft, inviting gaze: she was entrusting herself to him tonight. On her own volition she had removed the professional distance and was allowing him to comfort her, lead her, care for her. And she wasn't just allowing it; she was asking for it. A hot streak of longing streaked from his chest to his groin, stealing his breath and clenching his heart. She was so beautiful. Her eyes were turning his insides into putty, capturing him in their unabashed stare. He clenched his jaw as he forced himself to swallow, his hands falling to his sides instead of gathering her tightly into himself and burying his face in her hair. What business did she have looking at him like that? Turning him into a hopeless sap in the space of a breath?

The moment was brief, but left a profound mark on his emotions. She dropped her eyes before it escalated into anything more, and he stepped back towards the hinges while extending an arm to push the door all the way open, giving himself some time to put everything into context again as his heart hammered out judgment at how little control he had over his emotions for her. One glance had set him spinning. But, to be fair, she had never looked at him that way before, unguarded and open.

The past several days seemed to be crashing down on her all at once, and she had been strangely quiet all evening, unable to conceal the exhaustion as it draped over her like a sodden blanket, rendering her far too compliant to his demands. He was unaccustomed to handling a vulnerable Kate Beckett, but no matter how badly he wanted to hold her and kiss away the pain, he wasn't about to get all pushy mushy and scare her off. Until she signaled him otherwise, the best he could do was be there for her, which is exactly what he planned to do. He was glad she hadn't forced an argument about staying at his loft tonight. He had nearly lost her twice in the last two days, and there was no way in hell he was letting her stay anywhere else.

"Ladies first!" He forced his usual cocky grin into place and gestured inwards.

"In that case, shouldn't I be following you?" Kate barbed with a sardonic twist of her mouth, but even as she said it, she was rolling her weight around the doorjamb and stepping ahead of him across the threshold. It was dark inside the loft, except for a low light streaming from the kitchen. Martha and Alexis had undoubtedly retired hours ago.

Castle chuckled and shut the door behind him. Some of the tension about how he should handle her display of vulnerability faded as she showed some spunk through her light jab. They were back in a familiar place. "Nuh-uh Detective; you do not have license to tease. You must still pay me tribute for all my brilliance the past several days." He reached along the wall and flicked on the lights, catching her wince and blink rapidly several times.

"You aren't going to give that up, are you?"

"On my night of victory? Hell no!" Castle said, stepping up behind her. Beckett had just finished removing her gloves and was starting to struggle out of her leather coat, so he reached up from behind her and hooked his fingers under the front edges of the collar, pulling it over her shoulders and down her arms. As her right shoulder twisted backwards, he heard her huff lightly.

"Oooh, that is going to be stiff tomorrow." She noted.

"Yeah, I saw you take some good hits tonight." There was no judgment in his tone, merely sympathy. "And I only saw the end. But I could hear you two beating the crap out of each other."

"Well, you didn't miss much. Dunn dropped onto me from above and managed to slam me back into the storage door, which is probably where I busted the back of my head."

"Is that how he got your gun?"

She scowled. "That, and a few cheap shots to the ribs."

Castle took her coat and gloves and laid them across the back of an easy chair as she walked unsteadily over towards the kitchen. "No offense, but you look exhausted." He remarked. "Take a seat and I'll fetch you your glass of wine."

"It's because I am. And I've got a killer headache. So grab some Tylenol with the wine."

"There's a bottle of Advil on the counter near you. It's that time of month around here." He smiled, pointing up the stairs.

"Ha! Well, not around here," she said, indicating herself and smiling, "so go get me the Tylenol."

"Same difference." He muttered as he left the room.

A short while later, the kitchen peninsula sported an expensive bottle of Merlot, two wine glasses, and an assorted pile of medical supplies. Beckett was perched on a barstool, leaning forward with one elbow planted on the counter, a hand supporting her head. She had already chased down several tablets of Tylenol with her wine, but Castle could tell it hadn't taken effect yet due to the way she was still coddling her head. She was beginning to fade out again, like she had in the cab, and was just staring blankly at the medical supplies he had unceremoniously dumped beside the wine bottle. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, and he felt a fresh twinge of affection catch him off-guard. As much as he pitied her losing her apartment, he selfishly relished the opportunity he had been given to dote on her a little.

"Why don't I take a look at where you cracked your head, assess the damage?" He offered, giving her some direction that she could latch onto. "I'll clean it out with some of the bubbly stuff; make sure it doesn't need any stiches from Lanie."

"Mm…that sounds like a plan." She stirred and focused on his face. Her eyes were large and dark. "Bubbly stuff?"

"Yah, you know, it fizzes." He picked up an opaque brown bottle and read the label. "Hydrogen Peroxide, Three percent. Use for first aid antiseptic, and for minor cuts and abrasions." He took his eyes off the label and looked over the bottle at her. "Although, there are so many other awesome things you can do with this stuff."

"You would know," She said, slowly straightening. "You want me to go to the sink?"

Castle hid his slight surprise that she was acquiescing to his attentions so readily. Not even a reflexive "I'm fine." She must be really exhausted. Or that headache was getting to her more than she was letting on. "No," He replied, "you don't have to get up. Just sit right there and lean your head over the counter. It shouldn't be that messy."

He grabbed a fresh dish towel and placed it folded on the counter in front of her to catch any excess peroxide. She folded her arms up on the counter before leaning over lowering her forehead down onto them, taking a reflexive deep breath as she relaxed deeply into her forearms. Castle stepped up alongside her, setting the peroxide and a gauze pad on the counter near her elbow, desperately trying to ignore the fact his pulse was quickening at the opportunity to run his hands through her hair. Focus, he thought. Just focus.

"Point and show me where it is." He asked, and her fingers rose from the counter to shuffle lightly across the surface of her hair indicating an area near the top of her occipital bone in the back of her head.

"Somewhere around here." She said, her voice muffled as she spoke into the counter top.

Castle raised his fingers, paused, and then began gently stroking her hair, parting it carefully and trying to get a visual on her laceration. It felt like silk in his fingers. Well, at least until he hit the parts where blood had dried and matted the strands together. As his fingers caught in the mess, several of his fingertips bumped solidly into her scalp, eliciting a sharp hiss from Beckett.

"Castle! Watch it! Jeez…" She admonished him.

"Sorry, Sorry! You've got a nice mess back here. Let me get something to wash out the blood." He grabbed a clean cloth and soaked it in warm water from the sink, then applied it dripping to the offending tangle. He carefully let the warm water do the work, trying not to press more than lightly on the wound. Beckett didn't say anything, but just kept breathing in deep, even breaths that he found rather distracting. After several applications, much of the blood had loosened and he was able to get down to the actual cut. Which wasn't as bad as he had feared.

"Well, Kate, looks like I am going to have to break out my razor and some butterfly bandages."

"What? No, Castle, you are NOT shaving my head!" She asserted, starting to raise her head off the counter.

"Oh don't worry; it will be just a small patch." He grinned, pushing the top of her head lightly and forcing her head back down.

"Castle…" She growled into the polished granite.

"Is it ok if I get the razor I've been using all week? I've run out of new ones."

"Rick!" This time her head did make it up and she shot a look at his face to judge his seriousness.

He laughed heartily. "Alright, I'm just kidding! It's not that bad. A good bloody split, but it doesn't need stiches. You'll just have a scar with a great story behind it. Now put your head back down so I can clean it out."

She obliged, and he caught her trying to hide a smile.

"You're so easy when you're tired." He commented, dribbling peroxide down into her hair and onto the exposed wound. "Hold still until this finishes bubbling. It's so cool!"

Her shoulders shook lightly with a chuckle. "Oh, if only you knew..." She said almost inaudibly, still muffled by her downcast position.

He stiffened before choosing to pretend he hadn't heard the comment. Taking the bait for a round of sexual innuendos would push him to the brink, and with the way she'd been acting tonight, he'd probably do something he'd regret in the morning. Instead, he repeated the peroxide wash several more times, then capped the bottle and dabbed the wound with a clean gauze pad. "Ok. You're good. There is still some blood still in your hair, but you can wash that out in the shower." He stroked her scalp to put the hair back in place, avoiding the injury now that he knew where it was. She murmured something indecipherable, but it resonated deep in her chest, causing the twist in his chest to return. "What was that?" He said, stilling his fingertips.

"I said that feels good." She mumbled louder.

He started stroking again, playing with her hair, twisting it in his fingers. "Good. Maybe it will make up for me bumbling into your cut a second ago." He was stalling, trying to draw out the moment. What he really wanted to do, he thought, was to place a soft kiss on the nape of her neck and carry her off bed.

"Hmmmm, no, you're still gonna pay for that." She said in throaty tones.

He didn't care. Kate Beckett was making sounds in his loft that were driving him crazy. He took a deep breath and stilled himself, trying to place her interests ahead of his. She was exhausted, and had to get up at the crack of dawn to finish up at the precinct. Besides, if he kept this up any longer she might come to her senses and start getting dodgy. He forced himself to extract his hands and move away. He shouldn't push his luck too far. "Do you want to jump in the shower?"

"Yeah. It's too late for a bath." She sighed, sitting up slightly and grabbing her wine glass, unceremoniously draining the rest of its contents. "But I have to cut my ankle tape off first."

He cocked his head sideways and squinted his eyes in confusion.

"I twisted it jumping into the tub when my apartment blew up. Lanie taped it up for me before we left for the take-down tonight, just in case I had some action."

"Oh – was that how you managed a footrace with Dunn a few days ago? Lanie had it taped up?"

"Yeah, she put so much athletic tape on that sucker it was basically iron-clad."

"Nice trick." Castle remarked as he walked into the kitchen and pulled a pair of scissors out of the drawer. Beckett was carefully unwrapping the bandage on her left wrist when he returned, exposing the still-healing burn beneath. "Ouch." He commented.

"I was supposed to re-dress it yesterday but I didn't have time. Whoops."

"I won't tell. We can redress it after you shower." He tapped the scissors against his palm. "If you want, I can cut off your tape for you."

She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes supple and dark. "Sure. It'll save me the pain of bending over to do it."

He paused. "Your ribs? Are they that bad?"

She shook her head lightly. "Can't do much about bruised ribs. But yeah, they're angry with me right now. Probably strained some of the intercostal muscles between the ribs."

"Do you want to put some ice on them?" He asked.

"No. I'd rather get in the shower and just take some meds for the pain." Sitting all the way up, she glanced around the room and placed her palms on the edge of the counter as if to push herself off the barstool. "Should I move to a different chair so you can reach my ankle?"

"Well," He said, perusing her feet hanging below the counter, "it would save me some crawling around. I'm not sure how well the housekeeper sweeps under there. Wanna move to the couch?"

She glanced over at the inviting overstuffed furniture piece. "No. If I settle into that, I'll never get up." She nodded over to the wooden chairs by the dining room table. "I'll grab one of those." She slid her legs around and scooted off the stool, tossing her head quickly to throw back the stray locks that had fallen over her face while her head had been horizontal.

It was a good thing Castle was still standing relatively in front of her, because Beckett plowed straight into his chest.

"Kate!" Castle cried in alarm as his hands dropped the scissors and shot to her sides to keep her from glancing off him and falling to the floor, quickly moving them up towards her armpits as she cried out in pain from the bruises he had accidentally clutched. Her weight was fully against him, her face planted into his sternum and her hands shooting up to his hips in order to catch herself. In a matter of seconds she had gotten her feet back under herself as Castle drew her upwards and inadvertently towards himself as he balanced her weight.

"Sorry, I guess my ankle gave out." She muttered, refusing to bring her eyes up to his in such close proximity. He was still holding her only inches away, his hands resting on the upper portion of her ribcage, with his thumbs sandwiched between her upper arms and sides and his fingers splayed out and wrapping around beneath her shoulders. He could feel the fine edges of her shoulder blades sliding along his fingertips as she lowered her arms from his waist to hang at her sides.

"Yeah right…I don't believe it. Kate, look at me." Castle's tone was soft but urgent, his head tilting slightly towards hers.

"I'm fine, Castle." She shook her head and kept her eyes downcast, attempting to twist sideways out of his grasp towards the table and chairs.

Castle didn't budge. And he didn't let go, but used his hands to firmly square her shoulders in front of him again. "No, I mean it. Look at me."

She hesitated.

"Kate." His tone was insistent and final, much like he used with Alexis when he wanted to let her know there was no room for argument.

He felt her sigh in resignation as she gave in and a moment later he was staring into those deep, dark pools rimmed with swirling green that had caught him so off guard at the door just moments prior. But this time, he was looking for something specific, shifting his gaze from one eye to the other. Her eyes were dark, for sure. Too dark.

"Have you been doing drugs, Detective? Because I could swear your eyes are dilated."

She immediately dropped her eyes down and looked to the left, like a naughty child caught in the act. "What are you talking about? You can't tell that."

"Yes I can, Kate. I notice things." Castle didn't feel the need to elaborate on the fact that he was well educated on how her eyes looked in many different settings.

"Well, they get like that when I am tired." She lamely supplied. She still wouldn't look at him.

"Oh. And do you always suffer from equilibrium issues, light sensitivity, and splitting headaches when you are tired?"

"What?" She finally gave him a sidelong glance with a slightly peeved expression.

"You've fallen into me twice, and don't think I didn't notice you wince when I turned on the lights." He struggled to read her face. She didn't look surprised…but more indignant. Like she'd been found out. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked softly.

"It's not a big deal. I can't do anything about it anyway." She shrugged. "Can you let me go now?"

Castle dropped his hands, letting them slide the full length of her sides before removing his touch. He didn't miss the quick inhale Beckett tried to mask by turning it into an exaggerated sigh. And it made him want to reach out and do it again.

"Tell me you at least got it checked out by Lanie." He said, looking at her disapprovingly.

"Well, to be honest, I didn't really figure it out myself until we got here." She looked at him quizzically. "Why do I feel like I'm in trouble? It's not like I asked for a concussion."

"Because if I had known, I wouldn't have given you any wine." He paused, making a connection. "That's why you wanted the Tylenol. Advil thins your blood, increases the risk of internal bleeding."

"Way to go, Sherlock." She chuckled condescendingly. "Although you should have figured out I was concussed awhile ago. And to answer your question about the wine-" she pulled out a dining chair and sat down. "-I've had a hard day. The risk vs. reward definitely weighed in favor of a full glass. Which was excellent, I must say."

He walked over and pulled another chair around so that he was facing her. "Well, I still wish you would have clued me in." He huffed as he bent down and cupped a hand around the calf of her left leg, bringing it into his lap. He appreciated the firmness he felt beneath his fingers. They felt as good as they looked.

"Wrong leg Castle." She said, leaning back into the chair and relaxing again after her interrogation.

"Oh. Well, I might as well take your boot off while it's up here." He replied, pushing up the hem of her pants and unzipping the side of her three-inch heeled boots. "How you run in these things is a mystery I will never comprehend." He commented as he pulled on the heel and slipped it off. On a sudden impulse he stripped her sock off as well, revealing a fine-boned, well-manicured foot. He stole a quick glance at her face, but she was just regarding him with apparent amusement, her face a picture of relaxation and security. Wrapping one large hand around the edge of her foot, he pressed his thumb into her sole as he distributed pressure from his fingers across the tendons on the top of her arch. "But they've gotta hurt your feet after a long day like this."

Kate rolled her eyes back and closed her eyes, moaning lightly in sheer pleasure. "Wow, Castle, if I knew you gave out free foot massages I would have asked a long time ago." She said breathily.

Castle's heart jumped a beat, and he worked his hand slowly, bringing his other hand on board and running a pattern of flexing, stretching, pressing, and molding, working each tendon while paying special attention to the points that bore the most weight. Kate's occasional humming and mumbled affirmations of pleasure were both encouraging and tantalizing at the same time. He could feel his blood rising, and something was building in his chest, a gradual pressure mounting until he felt he was going to burst open with emotion. His breath started shortening as the pressure mounted, beginning to come in shallow wisps, and he knew he was playing with fire.

Against his will, he stilled his hands after several long minutes, leaving his hands wrapped around her foot, feeling his palms warm her slightly cooler skin. He worked up the courage to look at her face, fearing what he would see, trying to think of a comedic one-liner to dash away the sexual tension if she looked like she was about to flee.

When he finally did look at her, he realized she had been gazing at him the entire time, and the realization sent white-hot bolts of lightning through his chest once again, stilling his shallow breath into no breath at all. Her head had tipped slightly forward, and every muscle in her face was relaxed, softening the perfect lines of her cheekbones. Her eyelids hung low and heavy, lashes hovering over her cheeks, with her pupils so dark he could barely make out the subtle glint of her irises. The line of her mouth was full and relaxed, her lips parted just enough to allow breath to pass through.

In another time, or another world, Castle knew he would run his hands along her legs until he rested them on her hips, giving him a balance point to lean in and capture those delicate soft lips with his own confident ones, feel her sigh into his breath while he drank softly of the deliciousness that was Katherine Beckett.

But this was not that time.

Castle drew a deep, long breath into his lungs, forcing his overactive imagination to stop conjuring up new images of where he would take her and what he would do. He blinked several times and glanced away from her to usher some sense of reality back into his mind. He was sitting in a hard wooden chair, holding her foot upon his lap, and she was zoned out in some sort of half-trance in the chair opposite him. If this was not that time, he thought, with a little patience it could be that world. Don't mess it up.

Gently and slowly, he returned her left foot back to the floor and reached for its mirror twin. Settling the booted foot on his lap, he carefully extracted her foot with as little bumping or twisting as possible. It was a much more difficult task than the previous boot due to the volume of tape Lanie had layered on, and at one point he had to wiggle and jerk slightly to persuade the boot to release her foot. Beckett grunted and mumbled something unintelligible, causing him to clench his jaw and grind his teeth to keep his mind on task. Once he had removed the sock, he finally grabbed the scissors and set out to accomplish his original mission: cutting off the tape. The white cloth strips encased her entire ankle forming a soft, lightweight, semi-flexible cast that looked like a crew sock with the toe cut off at the ball of her foot. As he started to slide one blade under the edge nearest her toes, he smiled in triumph to himself. His powers of touch had reduced Detective Kate Beckett into a pile of putty in his hands. Score one for Richard Castle.

The cold steel of the scissors combined with the sawing of the blades against her skin must have somewhat roused Beckett from her stupor, because Castle felt her shift slightly in her seat. He glanced up as soon as he could, but he found her still completely relaxed, the only change being that her eyes were actually focusing on what he was doing. Finishing the last snip and allowing the soft cast to drop onto the floor, he assessed her ankle. It was a mediocre display of purple and blue; the bruising was not as bad as he would have thought. He ran his fingers lightly along her ankle bone, feeling for excess heat, noting the slight sponginess created by the excess fluid in her tissues. Overall, it looked pretty good for a sprained ankle.

Castle set her injured foot back onto the floor, being careful not to let it drop or jar. Leaving a hand on her knee, he scooted out of his chair and crouched down next to hers, watching her half-heartedly track his approach.

"Hey." He whispered, lifting a lock of hair from her face and tucking it around her ear. "You still wanna take that shower? Or are you good for bed?"

She rolled her head towards him sleepily, blinking several times before inhaling a giant breath that seemed to fill her lungs endlessly before they collapsed and emptied in a profound exhale. Instead of answering, she emitted a guttural sound deep in the back of her throat that sounded like she was protesting him asking her to make a decision.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Rodian. You'll have to translate." Castle said with a smile.

Beckett rolled her eyes and took another breath. "Too tir'd to think 'bout it. You kn'cked me out."

Her tired, slurred speech lent her a new level of vulnerability and a new swelling of possessiveness rose within him. "Well, I could always make the decision for you and carry you off to bed, if you like." He waited tensely, studying her face, half hoping she would take him seriously, and half afraid she would. He wasn't even sure whose bed he would take her to; his or hers.

She waived a hand, shaking her head. "Nonono, I go' it. Need a show'r."

He laughed softly and squeezed her knee. "Are you sure? Seems like you're already half-way to dreamland. Tell me: am I as ruggedly handsome there as I am in the real world?"

Her hand rose up and sloppily landed on his cheek before shoving his face away with surprising force for her relaxed state, toppling his weight back on his heels. "Just gimme a few minutes. Go get me some towels or somethin'." She said, bringing her hands up to her face and rubbing her eyes lightly.

Castle pushed himself upwards and stood, grinning like a boy in a candy store, a permanent warmth settling in his heart. He started walking towards his room, intent on finding something she could wear to sleep in. He could be patient. He could be really patient. Because eventually, he would wear her down, and on that day nothing would stop him from drawing her into his arms and never letting go.


	3. See You In Two

Beckett twisted the handle and the jet of steaming water that had been massaging her for the last twenty minutes fell to a limp trickle, then ceased altogether. Stepping carefully out, she pulled a large plush bath towel from the rack and slowly sponged the water off her body, relishing in the luxurious softness and depth of weave. Castle knew where to invest his money.

The shower rejuvenated her somewhat; at least enough to feel like she had the energy to finish getting ready for bed and retire with some dignity instead of collapsing into a rumpled heap upon her bed. His guest bed. Her bed. Whatever. Her dependence on his hospitality the past several days was blurring her ability to compartmentalize their relationship as strictly work-related.

She bent behind the door and picked up the clothes Castle had tossed inside shortly after she had entered the shower: one of his oversized t-shirts and pair of leggings that may have been Martha's. Almost the same outfit she had worn last night, except the shirt was a deep maroon instead of a navy blue. She smiled as she pulled it over her head. Same smell though. Same deep, rich smell, with a slight twinge of sharpness at the end from the residue of his detergent.

Co-workers or not, she allowed herself a few secret indulgences. Castle's scent was one of them. It used to be she only noticed it on the rare occasion that she hugged him, or when he leaned directly over her shoulder to steal a glance at her computer. Now she took note of it when he reached across her desk to set down her daily coffee, when they rode the elevator together, and when he sat beside her in the interrogation room. She indulged herself in its comfort because no one could ever know. It was the most subtle, yet most constant way she enjoyed Rick's presence.

After wringing the excess water out of her hair, she neatly placed the towel back on the rack and noticed her small toiletry bag on the counter. Castle evidently had scrounged it out of the overnight bag she had retrieved from the precinct the night before. Quickly brushing her teeth, she glanced in the mirror. It was still fogged. She decided she was too tired to care about looks and opened the door, appreciating the crisp rush of air that hit her after the steamy humidity of the bathroom.

Making her way back to the common area, she found Castle standing in the great room, dropping his phone from his ear and pressing a thumb to the screen.

"Who are you talking to at this hour?" she inquired.

"Oh, it was just Special Agent Shaw offering her thanks," he replied, before smirking and adding "and practically begging me to follow her around for research on an FBI crime novel."

Beckett couldn't tell if he was joking or serious. "What? Follow her?" She felt somewhat…betrayed. "Don't be so quick to let all the flashy equipment catch your eye. You hate doing paperwork at my desk?" She poked a finger in his direction to emphasize her point. "That's child's play compared to government bureaucracies like the FBI."

Registering the tone of his resulting chuckle, she leveled her eyes in exasperation. "You're joking. Who was it really, Castle. Cough it up."

"Just watching your back, Beckett. Or should I say your head." He tapped his temple and turned towards the kitchen, reaching for Silvadene burn ointment and a roll of gauze.

Beckett frowned as she tried to deduct a name from his clue. He didn't…did he?

"Lanie? You freaking woke up Lanie? Just to satisfy some overprotective urge?"

"I believe I had precedent to do so." He returned to the living room and sat down on the couch, setting the gauze and ointment on the coffee table. "And I am NOT being overprotective. You have a concussion. I have a right to know how serious it is and how to deal with it properly."

"I know how to treat a concussion and I'm not your patient, Castle." she griped. "I hope Lanie bit your head off for disrupting her beauty sleep."

"Oh, she did at first. But after I made the issue clear she thanked me for calling. And for watching out for you." He looked at her again. "You may not be my patient, but anyone under my roof is my responsibility and I take that seriously." He smiled and patted the couch cushions. "So get over here and let's finish patching you up so we can all sleep, yes?"

"I'm not your responsibility." she said flatly. And immediately regretted it.

He regarded her a moment. His lips quirked. "I see you found my shower refreshing." he said in amused observation as he glanced down and twisted the cap off the tube of ointment. But she could detect the almost imperceptible undertones of disappointment and resignation.

Beckett stilled and fought the flush of shame that was rising to her face. She wanted to apologize. Wanted to, but couldn't. She'd been giving him so much ground tonight, even encouraging it...and he hadn't missed a step. He was far into her territory, and her intruder alert had just sounded. He was close to her feelings, and even she didn't touch those. It had taken her years as a street cop to isolate and lock her emotions into remote niches where they could no longer wreak havoc on the bleeding fragments of her soul. And if she allowed anyone, including herself, too much access to those locked compartments, the ensuing flood would rip through the delicate stitching that bound those fragments together.

She wanted to apologize.

She wanted a lot of things stolen by her past.

And then he set the cap down, looking up to where she still stood anchored to the floor. His eyes bore deep and steady into hers, rock solid, not a trace of betrayal or accusation tainting the steel blue. He understood. God, how did he know? She was like cellophane before him, a little girl in an oversized t-shirt.

And behind the overwhelming support, she could read the truth they both knew and she refused to acknowledge. _I pulled you from the flames. I made my home your home. I outwitted your enemy. I shot death and gave you life. I've got your back, Katherine Beckett. Whether you like it or not._

"Here-" he offered the ointment, "it's all ready for you. I'll get the tape to finish the wrap." A way out, space. He had seen the fear.

No.

"Wait." He was already half way up. She took a few quick strides and settled on the cushion where his hand had tapped only moments before. "It's hard to deal with one-handed." she explained, torqueing one side of her mouth into a lopsided smile. He deserved this.

He grinned and shifted his weight back onto the couch. Apology accepted.

"Then I will bear the task of mummifying your wrist." He grabbed the ointment with a flourish. "To preserve your skin for all eternity!"

She couldn't help herself. She laughed. At his stupid joke. And it felt good, the tension gone. He had saved her again.

"So, what did Lanie say? Keep me awake?" Small talk.

"Ha! I don't think I would have much luck with that!" Castle laughed, picking up her wrist and turning it face-up before gently smoothing the cool pasty gel along the flaky red streak marring her skin. "No, she just said to check on you every two hours. Make sure you aren't comatose. And it's a good thing I called her, because I'm pretty sure you wouldn't ask me to check up on you in bed."

She raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly in deference to his point. "I suppose I don't have a choice, then."

"Nope."

"Guess I'll have to sleep with my clothes on." she sighed in mock resignation, and was rewarded with an exasperated glance from Castle.

"Oh, come on, who says?" came his petty whine.

"I think once is enough." she quipped with a ghosted smile.

"That doesn't count. There was no time to appreciate the moment."

"Oh, I think there was too much time."

Castle just grunted his denial.

He gently slathered on a little more ointment, one hand cradling her wrist as if it were a small child; the other stroking methodically, his fingertips barely touching her skin as he focused solely on doing his job perfectly and painlessly. In the comfortable silence that ensued, Kate indulged herself again, consciously inhaling the scent surrounding her, allowing the slight headiness of his cologne mixed with his tantalizing warmth to roll through her like a deep massage. Sitting beside him, on his couch and in his loft, she experienced the totality of his presence. The combination of his scent, touch, and the billowing comfort of the couch worked in tandem to relax her once again, draining her of the alertness the shower had sparked, unspooling her defenses, lulling her back to a place where brokenness wasn't a place to hide and she could pretend to be whole again.

She regarded his features and sighed internally. Wholeness was an illusion.

He discovered her stare when he broke his concentration to reach for a gauze pad. Faltered slightly. Knocked the roll of gauze onto the floor. Looked away. Grabbed a rectangular pad.

"Kate. You gotta stop looking at me like that." His fingers tightened on her wrist. "I know you're tired. I'm getting you there." Raw care and gentleness wove the fabric of his voice as he meticulously placed the gauze rectangle across her burn.

She started. Quickly averted her gaze, watched his hand fumble under the couch for the gauze roll. What thoughts had he read from her open visage? What had she been thinking? She blinked and stared blankly at the air above her wrist. And why did her name rolling effortlessly over his lips suddenly spark a warmth she didn't want to deal with?

"No-ah, I'm fine. Take your time."

Castle was beginning to lightly wrap the gauze in overlapping loops about her wrist. "Well," he corrected, "not quite fine. But you'll live."

"I always do. Remember, this was my job long before you came along."

"Is it like this every night after a case?"

"Like what?" she wasn't sure she liked where this was going.

"Well, you know, the weariness, bandages, pensiveness...decompression."

She shrugged. "I have a hard job. But no. It's not." She thought a moment, decided to elaborate. "Sometimes the cases, they hit too close to home, you know? Those are hard. But most of them, it's just about bringing justice and closure to a family, a loved one. And those are good, rewarding."

"And then there's this case." He stated it as an unarguable fact, finishing her wrap and tucking the end of the gauze beneath the layers before smoothing his thumb across the textured surface, caressing.

"Yeah." Her voice was soft, somber. "This case."

"It was totally different, wasn't it. More taxing. Personal." He was leading her, coaxing.

"Not just that." she supplied. "He taunted me; toyed with me; put the blood of innocent victims on my hands." Suppressed emotions were breaking loose. "At my door, Castle! He killed and put a mom, sister, daughter - at my door, all because I couldn't stop him, couldn't live up to the name." She stared at his thumb, still resting upon the gauze, the warmth seeping in.

"I know the feeling; I created his world. When we walked into his apartment..." he trailed off. "I'll never forget that. Or the look on your face." Still probing, leeching the poison.

She shook her head, bit at her lower lip. "When I saw the pictures, photos, scribbles, madness, words...MY face, everywhere - I was afraid. I've never felt so...so hunted. He had intentionally singled me out, stalked me, tracked me down, and up to that point, outsmarted us. But it wasn't just fear. Seeing myself mixed in with all those murders, all that wrongness; it struck me deeper. Because I couldn't stop him. I'd failed the victims I'd sworn to protect. He challenged, I failed. The freaking FBI kicked me off my own case. Do you even know how incompetent I felt from that slap? This is what I do, I catch killers, and my job, my identity, went poof."

She was verbally puking on Castle, being too honest. Well, he pushed. And she was beyond caring. The words were flowing in no sort of chronological order, the emotions directing her in random pathways.

"But you know, I don't even care about that. What keeps me awake is that more innocent people died because I couldn't catch him."

"We, Beckett."

She ignored him. "Loved ones. Senseless killing. When Ben Conrad died, and we all thought it was over - he was in that room, laughing behind that damn wall. Taunting. Just knowing he was there...the whole time...if I had figured it out earlier, made sure all the facts lined up, given myself space to think through my memory...or if I'd, I don't know, worked a different angle, if I'd-"

"We! Kate, we!" he tugged her wrist slightly. "It wasn't just you. The FBI, with all their cross-referencing and smart boards and national databases couldn't figure it out; Shaw with her profiling couldn't figure it out; the whole 12th was mobilized and couldn't figure it out. You know this. It wasn't just you. It was all of us. And we worked all the right angles, we went where the evidence led, we followed the facts - and we figured it out. It was good police work."

He had hedged her, kept her from the edge, prevented the spiraling self-deprecation that had become reflex after her mother's murder. He'd drawn out the emotion, kept her from locking it away, unprocessed, unrecognized; brought it into the light so she could see it wasn't so, so she could experience the frustration and then acknowledge the facts: that she had done her best, that the failure she felt wasn't real.

"I know. It's just...frustrating." But she felt cleansed. She looked at his hands again, still cradling her bandaged wrist, the both of them wrapped around it like a soft cocoon, warm and tender. A physical representation of what their relationship really was. A slow, somewhat woeful smile breached her features. "No, not we. You. You figured it out. Twice."

"Eh." he grunted, "But not soon enough."

She looked away from his hands and found his face, questioning his meaning. He was staring hard; hard at his hands holding her, at his thumbs stroking, intentionally not raising his gaze.

"When your apartment blew, when I felt the heat, the percussion even from across the street; Kate-" the tightness in his voice was near breaking "-I thought it was over. All of it." he started to say more, stopped, paused, seemed to change his mind, and shrugged his shoulders instead. "Good thing you have a taste for cast iron tubs, eh?" he said finally, bringing his eyes up and arching his eyebrows.

She laughed fully; relishing in the freedom of putting the past days behind her, relieved he hadn't revealed his heart. She wasn't ready for that. Not for a long while. She needed this to stay her safe place, no expectations. And he knew that. He always did.

She twisted her hand around so she could grab his left wrist as she stood. "Stand up." she commanded, even as she rose herself. She should have done this days ago, when he gave her his jacket and guided her through the flames. She should have done this yesterday, when he brought her to his loft and gave her a home. She should have done this tonight, after the warehouse, when he'd pulled the trigger and secured her life.

He stood to his feet and allowed her to withdraw her wrist, understanding this was the end of their conversation. But instead of turning towards the guest room, she stepped closer and snaked her arms in under his, sliding her hands up across his obliques and pressing her palms against his back, drawing herself against his chest in a full-frontal hug. She would do it now. And do it with everything she had, rolling all three debts into one payment.

"Thank you." she whispered, pressing her face for the briefest instant into the perfect niche where his jaw joined his neck, her breath dancing across the lines of his collarbones, the sweet headiness of him pouring over her, into her, banishing the aches and pains before she twisted her head away to rest her chin upon his shoulder in a less intimate gesture. "For everything." she added, holding herself into him, smiling as she realized he wasn't breathing within her embrace, his brain still absorbing the shock of the moment.

And then his arms were around her like steel vises, his whole body melding around her form as he gathered her upwards into himself, his lungs expanding into her chest and his face pressing into the still wet tresses of her hair. She fought the whimper that rose to her lips; lost, and muttered an urgent "gentle, gentle!" into his ear. Should've thought about that.

He immediately responded and dropped her like she was fire, muttering "sorry sorry sorry!", leaving one arm resting lightly across her shoulders while circling a hovering palm near her bruised ribs, peering at her left side in horror as if he thought she would fall to pieces.

"No, it's ok." she breathed slowly, carefully. "They're not broken." she added dryly.

"I'm sorry, you just - surprised me." he apologized, his face a comical war between elation and self-reproach.

"I just wanted to thank you properly. For taking me in. For being my backup. I don't understand how you come up with this stuff, but your crazy theory saved a lot of people tonight. Including myself."

"Well, if that was how you say thank you, I can only imagine how you say-"

"Goodnight, Castle." she grinned while swatting his shoulder as she turned away. "See you in two hours."

"I can hardly wait!" he clapped in anticipation at her receding back.

"If I wake up with my hand in warm water...the other will be pointing a gun to your head." she paused and half-turned in the doorway. "And if I'm aiming for your head, that's where the bullet goes."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" he said, throwing up his hands in indignation as the door clicked shut.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The alarm blared. Red lines blurred, coalesced, and Castle registered the fact he was staring at the numbers 3:33. He had something against setting alarms for exact times, but he could appreciate poetic symmetry. Typically, he would have slammed the snooze and procrastinated through several more cycles, but after a few blinks he flicked the alarm off and scrambled out of bed, snatching up a discarded t-shirt and jerking it over his head as he shuffled out of the room.

By the time he reached the guest room, he had rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes and reached full mental awareness. Castle stepped lightly to the closed door, pausing a moment to build a theatric pause for himself before gripping the handle. He knew this moment was a rare and precious gift, and he intended to savor it as a sip of rare wine, letting each facet roll over him as it passed by.

He slowly pressed the door inwards until it stood open enough for him to slip in easily, but not enough to cast the beam of light across her bed. Once again he paused, this time to allow his eyes to fully readjust to the relative darkness of the room, realizing he had been holding his breath since he turned the knob. Quietly, painstakingly, he exhaled through his mouth so as not to wake her. Not yet. Savor it.

He closed down the angle of the door until the room was filled with only a subtle glow before crossing noiselessly over to the foot of the bed, eyes never leaving the form he could see lumped on one side. A passing thought darted through his mind, wondering if she really did sleep naked on any sort of regular basis. Dismissing it quickly, he craned his neck slightly to get a visual on which way she was facing.

Perfect. She was on her right side, facing the edge.

He gave the bed a wide berth as he tiptoed around the corner, not wanting his presence to rouse her, his breathing still shallow, quiet, then caught short as she shifted her legs slightly under the duvet. He froze for an instant, but she remained still, the rhythm of her soft heavy breaths remaining unchanged. It dawned on him that what he was doing was both very creepy and somewhat stalker-esque, but the thought only brought an amused smile to his face. He liked high stakes. They enhanced the joy of the win.

Finally, he reached a spot where he could clearly see the angles of her face, where he could almost make out the dark lashes feathering her cheeks.

Score.

She must have been warm, because the duvet was tossed back in a way that the folded edge laid high across her thighs, while the sheet continued upwards over her waist until it fell away near her midriff. Castle felt a stitch in his chest as his eyes fell on his shirt, rumpled and slightly twisted about her, the oversized sleeves nearly reaching her elbow on one side while scrunching into a wad at the shoulder on the other. His shirt. On her. Way too sexy.

The stitch grew to a vise gripping his lungs as he stared shamelessly at the strong, slender curve of her cheek bone accentuating the soft plane of her cheek; the fine line of her jaw running straight and sharp back to the delicate skin beneath her ear where it melted into the subtle curve of her neck; the ridge of her nose as it traveled downwards between her shuttered lashes until it rounded and dropped gracefully to the teardrop nestled into her upper lip. So beautiful. So beautiful it hurt.

He closed his eyes, but it only enhanced the image of her gently parted lips; full, relaxed, tender...

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all. It was making him want to do things he had no business even thinking about doing to a NYPD detective. Who was practically his boss. And who was just beginning to trust him. He sighed. Not this time, Castle. But maybe this world.

He could stand here all night.

After several long moments, his latent conscience began pricking at the corners of his mind, nagging, reminding him she was injured and he was here for more than stolen moments. He smiled to himself again. Only the best stolen moment ever, he thought, suppressing the spontaneous urge to fist pump the air as he cautiously stepped forward.

Reaching her side, he suffered a moment of indecision as he juggled through the myriad of ways he could wake her. Shake her shoulder. Stroke her arm - or back. Or backside...wait, no. Jeez Castle. Sit on the bed? Crouch in front? Get under the covers, snuggle up, kiss her neck...his eyes twitched left and spotted the gun lying beside her badge on the nightstand. Ok, so, keep it simple. Relatively.

All good things must come to an end. But not without out one last swirl before the moment was swallowed.

"Hey beautiful." he whispered, savoring the shape of the words as they tumbled off his tongue. "You're killin' me." Even knowing her sleeping ears would not reveal his secret, his heart triple-stepped and flopped over at his verbal confession. Lifting his fingers, he stroked back the feather light wisps of hair that had dried and come to rest across her brow, finishing the sweep by tucking them expertly behind her ear before dropping his hand to her shoulder. She was really out.

"Hey Kate. Wake up." He squeezed her shoulder and ran his thumb in little circles. Dropping to a crouch, he gave her a gentle shake. "Come on Kate, you're about to start worrying me."

She stopped breathing, her breath caught in her chest. Castle furrowed his brow, not sure if he should be panicking or not, when she suddenly twitched violently and her eyes snapped open, as if he had snuck up and startled her terribly. When they focused on his face, he wasn't prepared for the disoriented terror he saw there. In next instant, she was sucking air into her lungs, inhaling his name simultaneously with a hoarse "Castle?" as her bandaged wrist shot out and grabbed his forearm.

"Yeah hey, chill, it's just me Kate!" he gripped her shoulder firmer in an attempt to ground her somewhat. She twisted her head upwards to face the ceiling, her breathing somewhat ragged as her eyes scanned frantically around the room before coming back to rest on his face, searching. As the last vestiges of sleep finally lifted away, her face smoothed and she slightly loosened the death grip she had on his arm. Rolling onto her back, she closed her eyes.

"There's no fire." she softly stated in a perfectly calm voice, surprising him again.

"No." he replied, understanding dawning.

"No bomb." Same quiet tone.

"No. You're safe, here, my place." he asserted with more force.

She swallowed, opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, worked moisture back into her mouth. She drew several long breaths, causing him to realize his arm was still extended high across her chest, her left hand almost cradling it beneath her chin.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he was almost crushed by the realization of the demons that plagued her.

"No."

Castle sat for a moment, crouching beside her, tethered to her by his arm and unsure of what to say or do. He decided to fall back to his default with her.

"You know, if you were Alexis, I would crawl up into bed and snuggle away the boogie men."

She fought it, but a small smile leaked over her features. If his arm hadn't been tucked where it was, he would have missed the quick inaudible chuckle that caught in her chest. She offered no other reply, causing his mind to race in the silence. Was she...? No. Really? Was she trying to tell him she wouldn't mind a snuggle? She wasn't allowed to leave these decisions to him. She was supposed to give him clear boundaries.

This wasn't Alexis.

Sighing, his mind flitted back to his conversation with Lanie. He would use other, less intimate ways of taking Beckett's mind off her disturbed sleep.

"What's your name?" he asked simply.

He saw her brows knit together in confusion and her eyes blink several times towards the ceiling before she rolled her head sideways in glaring annoyance at him.

"What?" she squinted at him, scrunching her nose.

"Tell me your name." he shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious question to ask.

"No. You know my name." Snuggle moment gone. Stubborn Kate was back.

"I know that I know. I need to know that you know." he smiled patronizingly. "Lanie said I had to ask you a few questions to make sure you were still...all there, you know? Like your name, birthday, details about the tonight's events, et cetera."

Kate rolled her head back to the ceiling with a exaggerated groan, tossing his arm back in his face. In a nice sort of way. "This is torture." she grumbled.

"I know, right? I get to ask you questions, and you have to give me answers, or else I take you to the hospital. In the Castle-mobile. Oo!" he brightened, "Maybe I could even run some red lights - due to your medical emergency, of course - Ha ha!" he shook a fist. "Free license for speeding and reckless driving - with a cop in my front seat!"

"Ha!" she almost barked. "You would never even get me out the door!"

"Oh?" he challenged.

"Don't even pretend you could."

"I could slip something in your water..."

"Really Castle? Drugging me to take me to the hospital?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

He waived a hand in flippant dismissal. "Just tell me your name. Unless," he narrowed his eyes, "you've been stalling because you can't remember..."

"Oh shove it, Castle. Katherine Beckett." She smiled flatly at him. "NYPD Detective at the 12th precinct. Satisfied?"

"And what is your birthday?"

"Do you even know my birthday?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

Freaking cops and their intuitions. It was in November, right? Mental note: write it down next time. "Sta-alling..." he drawled.

"It's not a valid question if you can't verify the answer, Castle."

"Objection your honor; witness refuses to cooperate."

She flipped her hands up in exasperation. "I'm not going to tell you my birthday if you don't already freaking know it!"

"I never said I didn't."

"Then what is it?"

"That defeats the point of the question, Beckett!"

"Objection: lack of personal knowledge. And that's actually a real objection, Castle."

"Hey, who's getting technical?"

"Sustained!" she thumped a fist on the bed. "Now ask your next question so I can get back to sleep."

Castle humphed and muttered for show. She was kinda hot like this.

"Where are you?"

"Dumb question. At your loft."

"How'd you get here?"

She rolled over so she was facing him again, propping her head up on one hand. "Really? In a cab. With you. Can I graduate from kindergarten and answer something substantial? Like who did I take down, what was our assignment, who were we working with...how did I get concussed...okay?"

Castle pursed his lips in disapproval. "What happened tonight?"

She looked at him expectantly. "At what point?"

"Um, at the warehouse."

"What point specifically at the warehouse?"

She was being impossible. "Uh, after we left the van. Before we rescued- oh no! No no no. You are not getting anything else. Answer the freaking questions, Beckett!"

Beckett laughed and slipped her head off her hand to hide her face briefly in the pillow, muffling the sound. Raising it back up, her lingering chuckles spilled through the goofy, 'gotcha' smile she beamed in his face. "Castle, you are so, so easy. Oh you poor, innocent man..." she trailed, shaking her head and energetically ruffling his hair as if he were a small child.

He just sat there, helplessly grinning as he knelt beside her, still trying to recover from the flock of butterflies that had erupted at her touch, innocent as it was. Yeah, he could stay here all night.

She pulled her hand away and rolled onto her back again, yawning. "Look, we went in to save agent Shaw, I gave you my hold-out, Dunn jumped me and stole my gun, you shot my gun while aiming for his head, I cuffed him...we booked him, did some paperwork, and you dragged me here. End of story." she raised her eyebrows in expectation of his approval.

"Check, check, check." he said, making little checkmarks in the air with his finger. "Although you left out the part where I gave you expensive wine and an exclusive foot massage. And where you really liked it." He cocked his head sideways with a sarcastic smirk.

"I did not 'really like it', Castle. It's called being tired. Like I am now." she said defensively.

Castle propped his arms on the bed and leaned over them, drawing his chest over the edge. "Admit it, Detective. You liked it." he tried to ignore the inviting warmth of the bed with her tantalizing scent hovering thickly amongst the sheets.

"Mmm. Not as much as I like this bed." she reached down and yanked the sheet up to her shoulders as she rolled away, presenting her back to him.

"Oh, you like my bed, Beckett?" he couldn't resist.

"Get out of here." But it was muffled into the pillow, almost as if...

"Are you smiling?" he was leaning farther forward, pushing himself upwards slightly as he tried to catch a glance at her face. She burrowed further away. "Kate..." he teased.

Suddenly there was a flurry of motion and the sheet wrapped itself inexplicably around his face, covering his entire head with a suffocating grip as an arm snaked around his neck and mashed him against a solid surface. Well, mostly solid. As solid as Kate Beckett's side could be. She had him in an impossible headlock.

"Now I'm smiling." she said. "Really big."

Castle could only make muffled protests that weren't really protests at all.

"Are you going to let me sleep?"

He nodded in the crook of her arm.

"And leave and go to sleep in your own bed?"

He nodded again.

"Good, because I have to get up for work in two hours, and you're messing with my sleep schedule."

"You don't have a sleep schedule." he muttered.

She twisted his neck a little. "I heard that."

"Ow! Apples! Apples! Okay okay! I'll leave you alone!"

She released him and used the same arm to shove him backwards, still keeping her back turned to him.

"See you in two hours." he said as he hauled himself to his feet, tingles in his knees from crouching for so long.

"I'm waking myself up. I have an alarm."

"You're no fun. I'll still see you in two hours."

Her hand made a show of twitching behind her towards her gun on the nightstand.

"Over breakfast, of course." Castle clarified, moving towards the door.

He had reached the door and was about to pull it open when her heard her say something from the bed.

"What?" he turned, but couldn't make out her face in the gloom.

"Yes." she repeated.

He paused a moment, trying to discern what she was saying yes to.

"I liked it."

A warmth spread throughout him and he felt himself unable to prevent the slow smile from spilling across his face. The way she had said it didn't warrant a petty victory dance. Her confession encompassed a lot more than just a foot rub. He opened his mouth to say something, then decided to leave it as it was.

"See you in two." he said, slipping out and gently pulling the door behind him.

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A/N: I am so sorry this took me so freaking long to post. I've been in three different countries over the last couple weeks, with very little internet access. Thanks for all your awesome reviews, and a special thanks to those who alerted me to my silly mistakes! (Anyone know of a good beta, haha?) Overall, this final chapter gave me a lot of trouble – mostly because I kept wanting to treat them like season four Kate and Rick, but season two Rick and Kate kept telling me I couldn't have them kiss, cuddle, climb in bed, etc. I got really frustrated at them, but we found a good truce and I ended up being pretty happy with the finished work. What do you think? Let me know!


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